the smooth road

the road pavers,
weary in the afternoon sun.
the steam
of black
tar filling the air,
browned ribbons of heat
seeping into
their eyes
their lungs.
everyone wants to get home
the line
of cars
stretch backwards
for miles,
easing through
a narrow one lane
of orange cones.
to make the road smooth,
any road,
there must
be pain and sacrifice.